


Sleep On It

by innersanctuaries



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 13:18:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13236537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/innersanctuaries/pseuds/innersanctuaries
Summary: Walk me through my dreams.





	Sleep On It

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while! Sorry about that, by the way. December's been a busy month. Had a dance, feelings I've been repressing for a year and a half decided to hit me like a bus (I can do lovestruck in fics, but it kinda sucks in real life), had my birthday, had Christmas (Merry late Christmas to those who celebrate it!), and now, had the new year pop in! 
> 
> Okay, not as busy as I'm making it seem. The thing that's really got me busy is a stupid crush, it's got me all out of sorts and it's been almost the only thing my brain's been focused on. Lord help me.
> 
> Unfortunately, this doesn't exactly mean I'm coming back for good and posting regularly again. I start a one month pace class tomorrow and have January to finish a more difficult English class. I MIGHT be able to get one or two fics done during that, but I doubt it. Sorry!! I swear I love you all!!
> 
> Song inspo is Neon Crimson by The Paper Kites 
> 
> (https://youtu.be/bYyikzGSDsU)

 He comes to me in dreams.

 

 There are the twisted images of a broken body, wings tattered and bloody. The ones where I run until my lungs burn like he did, ones where I find that he’s the body on the floor. The ones where I cry until my voice is gone, just like he is. Those are the ones where I wake up feeling no different than usual.

 

_(still aching, still fuzzy, still furious angry distressed pained)_

 

 There are the moments where I have no control, where I’m the one twisting the knife. The ones where I carve pretty things into his chest, making a masterpiece with the blood that seeps from his wounds. Those are the ones where I wake up and swear up and down that my fingers are still slick and dripping red.

 

_(knuckles dry and chapped, splitting from being washed and scrubbed violently far too many times in a day)_

 

 There are the blows that shatter me, each perfectly thrown to break another bone, to tear another cry from my throat. The ones where I’m sure I deserve it all for not protecting him, for being the one that survived. I can never see his face, but I see his wings. Those are the ones where I wake up with a sick sense of happiness, all because I saw those golden wings whole and _alive._

 

_(wishing the bruises had stayed, that they’d be real, that he’d be real)_

 

 I almost prefer those, pain doesn’t hurt nearly as much as a sense of false hope that fades upon waking.

 

 There are the jokes and laughter told at a booth in a diner. The ones where he insists on sitting in the seat across from me despite it being broken because he wants to be able to see me. The ones where he listens intently, giving me his full attention while sipping his chocolate strawberry milkshake. The ones where he tells me things that others don’t and may never know, all because it’s me. Those are the ones where I wake up and can’t function for the rest of the day.

 

_(wishing we would have had more time, convincing myself that the ache in my stomach is because of the milkshake he insisted I try)_

 

 There are the warm smiles and whispered confessions of love while holding each other close under the covers. The ones where we refuse to let go, where we block out the rest of the world in order to stay in our own little reality. The ones where we’re safe and nothing else exists, where anything and everything that could harm us disappears. The ones where he falls asleep in my arms while I play with his hair. Those are the ones where I could swear I can still feel him in bed next to me when morning comes.

 

_(you’d gotten so used to playing human that you breathe even when you sleep, something so comforting to me, reassuring me that you were alive)_

 

There are the ones where we dance the night away, despite the fact that I can’t dance. The ones where he teaches me, encouraging me the whole time. The ones where he somehow ends up leading the slow songs, where I wish I were shorter so I could lean my head on his shoulder. The ones where we still end up kissing, soft as the feathers that caress my cheek and embrace me. Those are the ones where I refuse to listen to any music the next day.

 

_(throwing a cassette out the window, no matter how angry it might make Dean, all to keep my mind quiet and numb)_

 

I sometimes wish I saw nothing in my sleep, but I recant that whenever it does happen. Pain or a sense of false hope that fades upon waking hurts less than seeing nothing.

 

 He comes to me in dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully you guys enjoyed this! It was pretty fun to write after my little hiatus. 
> 
> The diner scene was something that happened last week when my crush and I went to grab lunch (I was Sam in that situation, but I was the one drinking the milkshake. I did not offer him my milkshake because I liked it too much, but it WAS strawberry flavored!), and the dance scene was basically what happened at the dance (I was Sam in that situation, but I WAS able to rest my head on his shoulder due to me being short. We did not kiss, unfortunately enough). Basically, this was me projecting my feelings onto paper, but my life is a hell of a lot less angsty.
> 
> Please comment feedback, it helps keep me motivated and helps me know what you guys do and don't like!
> 
> Follow me on Instagram at @archangelica_angelica or on tumblr at innersanctuaries if you want to get in touch or just to watch me shitpost!


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